


Warm

by tetranocular



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 17:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11673846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tetranocular/pseuds/tetranocular
Summary: A cold night can bring the warmest of thoughts.





	Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FixedWithBrokenParts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FixedWithBrokenParts/gifts).



> Hey guys! I know, I should be working on Ins and Outs, but I wanted to take a break from that to write something short and poetic. And... well... I guess it happened to also be Trevucard. ENJOY!

The brisk winter cold was held back by the solid walls of an inn. His toes, blue from trudging through the snow, could regain their feeling by the fireplace. His cloak, coated with half-frozen sleet, was discarded onto the floor so his body could take in the soft glow of the flames in front of him. And GOD, was it warm.

 

A frigid hand placed itself on his hair. Trevor leaned his head backwards into a familiar lap. Adrian sat in a chair behind him, fingers carding through his dark locks, gaze concentrated on not the fire, but him, as if there was nothing more handsome. And in spite of the fact that the hands on him were as icy as the storm outside, Adrian’s gaze was anything but cold.

 

The vampire was talking. Trevor couldn’t hear what he was saying. He was lost in those primrose irises. They were like the fancy golden plates his family would set up when a guest visited. They were to be admired, and evoked a sense of wonder and awe. Strikingly beautiful, yet so simple by design. The vampire’s flaxen curls cascaded over his shoulders, yet not one single hair seemed out of place, like each one was meticulously woven in the exact position it was meant to be. Two fangs, sharp at a distance, _very faintly_ rounded at their tips if you looked hard enough, peeked out from his lips every time his mouth opened. God. Everything about him was hauntingly beautiful and fair, and yet…

 

His power was the most remarkable part of the whole thing.

 

Adrian’s hands were so gentle… yet they carried tougher muscle than the average man could have in any part of his body. Compact. He was iron covered in velvet. One flick of the wrist, the wrong twist of an arm, and Trevor would be dead where he sat. But here he was, feeling more secure than he had felt since he was in the womb. Maybe that was the most powerful part of the pale creature that touched him so dearly, so gingerly… his power was in his restraint.

 

Trevor’s like a lamb sleeping in a wolf’s den, not caring that the beast is lingering over him with drool running down it’s chin. He goes on with his metaphorical nap, because the wolf has spared him this long. In fact, he had begun to believe the thing was protecting him. But whether he was being protected, or just savored, he didn’t care.

 

Because the wolf’s den was warm. 


End file.
